Chapter One

The Ordeal

...a lone man wakes in a deserted world. Bleeding, his memories gone he must navigate a strange world to find his way home.

Soundtrack

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The Ordeal - Chapter One

Written by Edward Shaddow

Before I had even opened my eyes I knew the world had changed, opening them just confirmed it. When the hard and familiar feel of cold bitumen is your pillow and the first thing you see upon waking is the sun touching the tops of skyscrapers you know something has happened. I waited for the sudden flood of drunken memories to come rushing back into my consciousness: a few pints of mead served by a rather fetching barmaid, the blind stupor as you stumble from club to club, that girl who did that thing with…nothing. Pray as I might the memories never came, only the uneasy sense that something was inherently wrong. I started to move my head to the side hoping to see a drinking buddy or two sprawled out on the street with me when a thunderous roar started to fill my ears from the inside. As if a thousand-man army were marching double time in full military gear, complete with cadence calls, across my eardrums. Before I had time to even deal with my ears, my stomach, perhaps annoyed at being mistreated the night before lurched upward towards my throat causing me to gag and swallow down bile. Oh thank the gods! It’s just a hangover, a plain ordinary hangover, I’ve never been so happy to wake up with one before. Come to think of it I can’t seem to recall having one, ever. I’ve heard stories of course and seen its effects on others but never in person. It has always been sunshine and roses (and occasionally a pretty face) when I wake up after a night out. My head lopped back as I rolled on my side trying to find a place where my head didn’t ache and my stomach wouldn’t revolt against me. Then it hit.

The pain stabbed through my left side. A solid, sharp piercing under my ribs that continued to push up and into my heart. I screamed. My arms, immobile seconds before, gripped my side pushing into the pain. Forcing one from its death grip, I raised my hand up in front of my face. It came away sticky and wet; the dark red blood slowly oozed its way down my outstretched arm. Too much, it was just too much. I gave into the agony and just screamed. My entire body screamed with me, shaking from the force, filling every corner of weak flesh, the torment becoming more real than I was. Fortunately, I didn’t have to suffer long. Soon the world began to melt, the orange morning glow fading to twilight, leaving a metallic tang in my mouth.

By the time my vision had cleared from the deep longing black of unconsciousness to a shade of red just clear enough for me to see through, the bright morning sun had long since disappeared replaced by the hollow glow of streetlights. I quickly discovered that blacking out hadn’t pulled the spear-like pain from my side; it just got me through the worst of it. As long as I didn’t breath too deeply it was close to becoming bearable, well, almost. The roaring in my ears had begun to lessen and my stomach had calmed down considerably. The smell of wet bitumen filled my nose on each shallow breath while my mind slowly registered the freezing layer of water that now covered my exposed person. Perfect, I survive the buck’s night from hell only to die from hypothermia the morning after.

Neither spots nor thunder filled my head as I turned it from side to side, finally a good sign! A few more hours and I might even feel well enough to move my foot, perhaps even the whole leg. I wish I could afford the luxury of waiting around, pulling the covers over me and falling back to sleep, waking up the next day and laughing about the funky dream I had. No such luck I am afraid, it didn’t take a genius to figure out that I was probably alone. I don’t know anywhere an injured man can lay on a city street, bleeding to death, for the better part of the day without at least being arrested for loitering. No, I was defiantly on my own this time, for better or worse, me against the world, etc. The breeze from the night air mixed with my soaked clothes and sent a chill through my already freezing bones, I needed to find somewhere warm to patch myself up. That meant moving.

Every movement was shear and utter agony as I manoeuvred myself into a kneeling position. It was as if I had to learn how to reuse my limbs from scratch, the only catch was that they had all been shattered into a thousand pieces beforehand. I hugged my arms around me trying to keep pressure on the gaping wound to slow the bleeding and hopefully not make it any bigger as I forces my legs upward. Surprisingly my legs were strong enough to lift my dead weight into the air and into a hunched over stance. Long white hair falls around my face like a curtain as my head sags and stares at the road. A dry outline is spread out on the wet bitumen like a natural chalk outline, the splash of blood helps complete the illusion. Breathing slowly and deeply helps control the pain even though each deep breath is met with an equally deep pang. Raising my head, I forced my legs to stumble forward through the waiting night, looking for somewhere to die comfortably, preferably with a well stocked bar.

My way paved by burning streetlights I stumbled down towards the bright glowing neon signs written in smart cursive. Resting every few steps on a discarded car gave me the chance to breath in the local scenery as it were. It was just like most big city business centres, cold and grey. What was slightly odd about it all, apart from the sheer lack of people, was the absence of side streets. No small alleys, no one way only streets, not even a set of traffic lights, this was unlike most cities I had ever been in. Hey, at least I wouldn’t be getting any more lost, only two directions to go in, and one of them had to be right, right? I was close enough that my sore eyes could work out the name of what ever it was I was heading towards. Big cursive neon green letters proudly spelt out the name “Midgar Hotel” halfway up the front of the tallest building I have ever seen. Its looming grey concrete walls rose up and towered over the other buildings, the sheer size of this place would have put the Eiffel Tower to shame. I don’t think I could even afford a drink in a place like this, let alone a night.

Two ravens circled above the main entrance as I breathlessly shunted up to the red carpet. The ominous sign was not wasted on me; choosing to take a chance I made my way up to the grand glass doors. No one greeted me as I rested against the glass. No doorman? They won’t be getting a full five star review from this guest, that’s for sure. The door resisted as I leant against it, locked, that’s helpful isn’t it. I banged my bloodied fist against the cold glass. “Hey!” I yelled, “Hey, I need some help here! Anyone?” I banged harder rattling the brass handles making the set of doors clatter loudly against one another. No response. Damn. While it hadn’t helped me the noise had brought my headache back, nice one. My legs buckled under me as I slid my back down the glass and sat down on the plush red carpet. I didn’t have the strength left in me to yell any more, let alone smash the thick glass. At least if I am going to die it’ll be on a red carpet, not that damn bitumen.

A flapping of wings and the sound of claws scraping on metal grabbed my attention; one of the ravens had landed on a nearby light fitting. I must be looking pretty poorly I thought to myself the birds are already picking out the best bits. “Shoo” I said weakly waving my arm at the black-feathered death maker, “Come back in an hour, my eyes can be yours then.” Tilting his small head, it regarded me, and obviously found something amusing, cawed and flew down from its perch to land a few feet way from me. I watched it walk around the wooden valet stand, it’s beak rubbing against the red velvet cloth draped over the front of the podium. The hotel’s monogram, emblazoned in gold, shimmered in the light as the raven caused the material to ripple. I bet they make their staff wear read suits with those little red hats held on by elastic I thought to myself, running around like this was an old black and white…then it hit me – Staff. There had to be a staff entrance around here somewhere and if I were extremely lucky it would be open. As if reading my mind the raven looked at me, cawed once, and flew off around the side of the building. It was weird I’ll give you that, but not by far the weirdest thing to have happened today; so I decided to follow the damn thing.

Bracing myself against the glass I pulled my aching frame up and stumbled the short distance to follow the bird around the corner. “Hope you’ve got a key, bird. Otherwise you’re going to have to fly me up to an open window,” I said. The raven sat on the light fitting sticking out from the door frame of the side entrance. The raven tilted his head as if seriously regarding my statement. Probably working out the weight ratios and appropriate air-speed velocities I mused to myself. Obviously working under a fiftieth wind, I ambled over to the door; it gave the appearance of most staff entrances, dark, dingy and the ally it was in didn’t exactly smell of roses. I tried the scungy looking doorknob, it opened without any resistance; things were beginning to look up. The door gave way to what appeared to be a staff only version of the lobby. Check-in desk for clocking on and off, a small couch and a corner-mounted television filled this ‘mini-lobby’. They certainly took the theme and ran with it, I wonder if the managers office is a cut down version of a hotel room, built in robes for filing and your own kitchenette for morning tea and lunches.

It was all so surreal that for a moment I had forgotten the reason for even being here, unfortunately, my half dead body hadn’t. Reminding me to move on, pain shot through my abdomen forcing me to collapse halfway to the floor. My breath escaped in rasps as I fought to regain enough control to get moving again. Gripping my side again I shouldered through the wooden swinging door in front of me, who’s tarnished brass sign suggested that it open to the lobby. As I moved through the door, leaving it to silently swing back and forth several times before settling flush with the wall, I looked out at the grand lobby from behind the concierge desk. Grand seemed too subtle a word to describe what I was looking at. The words majestic, awe-inspiring and lavish popped into my head while I looked out over a sea of white marble and rosewood.

The sheer size of the foyer seemed triple that of the outside building. Huge mirrors hung from several walls, each framed in the darkest wood embossed with pictorial stories intricately carved into the ancient timber. Under the mirrors, waist height flower boxes ran along all the spare walls, overflowing with miniature forests that had been left to their own devices for several years. The walls themselves provided a backdrop of warm cream which accented whatever colour was nearest it. A closed in bar and restaurant sat directly across from me, parallel to the reception desk, the gap between the two filled with the hotels monogram inlaid in gold on the marble floor. The desk and restaurant framed the grand marble and brass staircase, which sat opposite the front doors and took your main focus as you entered through the glass doors. Finally, two small lounge areas sat either side of the main staircase, providing a refuge from the busy noise of the lobby, well, when there were people in it that is. My legs started to tremble as I stood there, trying to figure out why a hotel like this has no one in it, yet seems to be in full working order. Enough sight seeing for now, if I can’t find a bed to collapse into soon the floor will be chosen for me.

My side screamed in pain as I limped the length of the check-in desk, looking for the key board. Hidden around the corner I found the board, every key for every room hung silently from their metal hooks, all except one that is. Room number nine’s key had been replaced with a red plastic tag that read ‘RESERVED’ in white letters. Reserved, what the hell does that mean? Suddenly my vision spun and my legs started to fall out from under me, shit. Quickly I grabbed the top of the desk behind me to stop my fall. I need to go lay down, sleep for a few years and then think about moving. Closing my eyes I tried to relax, breathing as deeply as I could, without causing anymore pain and gripping on to the desk for dear life. Slowly, as strength started to return to my legs I opened my eyes. The room wasn’t spinning and I only felt a little like throwing up all over the polished rosewood desk, I took that as a good sign. How was I going to make it up those stairs? I could barely make it to them let alone up them, the floor is looking more and more comfortable by the second. Felling my legs were once again apart of me I exerted the slightest of pressure on them while pushing down on the desktop. It hurt but I was standing again. Gingerly I let go of the desk and stood under my own power. So far so good, just hold out a little longer; you can make it. Self delusion at its best.

I looked over at the staircase again. It was about ten meters away, then, let’s see...fifteen steps to the landing and another thirty or so to the first floor. This was going to hurt. A lot. Turning my head back towards the key board something caught my eye. A bronze lattice door now sat in the middle of the wall running from the check-in desk to the lounge area. That certainly wasn’t there two minutes ago. I don’t care how much blood I’ve lost, I think I would have noticed the conveniently placed bronze elevator. Two choices clearly present themselves to me in this situation, thank whom ever made it appear and take the lift up to the rooms and go collapse in one or; hobble out of here as fast as I can, possibly collapsing from blood loss and die on the street. “Thanks” I half whispered through my dry and cracked lips. Without looking I reached out and grabbed the nearest key and painfully made my way to the elevator. In for a penny...I thought to myself as I nervously hit the call button.

The elevator came down smooth and soundlessly as it eased to a soft halt in front of me. Pulling back the bronze lattice door reviled the highly polished bronze interior you would expect from a five start hotel, in the 1920’s at least; complete with a new looking control crank for selecting which level you wanted. It looked as if it had only been built this morning and if the fresh smell of polish and grease was anything to go by, it had. I stepped in and closed the door behind me, turning to study the controls. They seemed easy enough, pull the leaver back along the half circle to the desired notch, stop, up or down. I looked down at the key I had taken. Room number 99. Great, only I could have taken one of the highest numbers to get to whilst bleeding to death. With a sigh I moved the crank to the ‘up’ notch and lent back against the wall as the lift slowly rose upwards.

Numbers glowed above the door frame as the lift passed each floor, moving steadily towards the top most floor. I didn’t even bother trying to figure out why a building that looked a hundred stories high from the outside only had eleven floors inside; I didn’t care, I just wanted to die comfortably. The pain in my side had started to subside, just a little, enough for me to catch a moments rest on the ride up. Through half closed eyes I saw the small ‘ten’ glow brightly and begin to fade. My hand reached out and slowly moved the control lever towards stop, feeling the lift slowing gently. The slow halt of the lift didn’t throw my already nauseous stomach towards the top of my throat like most modern lifts, thank goodness for small mercies, I thought. A soft ‘ding’ signalled the floor had been reached and I drew back the lattice door.

The colour and theme from the lobby had flowed up to the hallway that greeted me. Warm cream walls ran the length, dotted periodically with simple yet elegant doors, painted to match the wall. The same red velvet carpet ran wall to wall, giving an almost regal feel to the hall. Pain caused me to suck in a deep breath as I stepped out of the lift and onto the plush carpet. “Where is that porter with my bags?” I said jokingly to the empty floor, “They better have turned down the bed for me otherwise...” my sentence hung in the air as the room started to spin and go black on me. My hand reached out to steady myself but found no purchase , letting me half stumble forward. Just shut up, find the room and pass out, that’s all you have to do, I told my failing body. Like a drill instructor motivating his troops I marched myself down the hall for what seemed like an eon. The room numbers blurred beside me, nines everywhere and all at the oddest angles. I closed my eyes and kept moving. A little further, come on I told myself. My eyes opened tentatively and were greeted by a wondrous sight; double nines. “Thank the gods” I half whispered as I fell against the door to stop it from moving. Surprisingly the key glided into the lock and the door swung open effortlessly, causing me to fall into the room, hard.

Pain is such an understatement at this point. Suffering, agony, torture, torment; my mental thesaurus listed all the alternatives for me, as I half crawled towards the large bed in front of me. Never have I been more determined to reach something in all my life, then I was to reach that bed, at least, I think so. My hand soon grabbed soft, silk bed linen as I pulled my protesting body up onto the mattress. The softness enveloped me as I laid there. A long held sigh finally left my body as every aching bone and muscle relaxed and slipped into a sweet coma. Ok, I said to myself, now I can die. A faint caw filtered through to my ears as my eyes closed and the black began to overtake me. It was too late to do anything about.

Next Chapter...

Artist

Butthole Surfers

Song

Whatever (I Had A Dream Last Night)

Reason

From the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack, this song is hauntingly beautiful and fits this first chapter perfectly. Awakening on a deserted street, bleeding, ravens flying overhead, it’s what you would expect.

A faint caw filtered through to my ears as my eyes closed and the black began to overtake me.